The Lurking Horror
by Joseph the Weasel
Summary: A novelization of the 80s Infocom game. Things have began to take their turn on the GUE Tech college, one unwary student is caught in the middle of the creeping insanity, that may soon grip him too.
1. The begining of the horror

Terminal Room

I waited until the last minute again. This time it's the end of the term,

so all the TechNet terminals in the dorm are occupied. So, off I went to the old

Comp Center. Too bad it's the worst storm of the winter (Murphy's Law, right?),

and I practically froze to death slogging over here from the dorm. Not to

mention jumping at every shadow, what with all the recent disappearances. Time

to find a free machine, get to work, and write that twenty page paper.

THE LURKING HORROR

An Interactive Horror

Copyright (c) 1987 by Infocom, Inc. All rights reserved.

THE LURKING HORROR is a trademark of Infocom, Inc.

Release 221 / Serial number 870918

Terminal Room

This is a large room crammed with computer terminals, small computers, and

printers. An exit leads south. Banners, posters, and signs festoon the walls.

Most of the tables are covered with waste paper, old pizza boxes, and empty Coke

cans. There are usually a lot of people here, but tonight it's almost deserted.

A really whiz-bang pc is right inside the door.

Nearby is one of those ugly molded plastic chairs.

Sitting at a terminal is a hacker whom I recognize.

The hacker sits comfortably on an office chair facing a terminal table, or

perhaps it's just a pile of old listings as tall as a terminal table. He is

typing madly, using just two fingers, but achieves speeds that typists using all

ten fingers only dream of. He is apparently debugging a large assembly language

program, as the screen of his terminal looks like a spray of completely random

characters. The hacker is dressed in blue jeans, an old work shirt, and what

might once have been running shoes. Hanging from his belt is an enormous ring of

keys. He is in need of a bath.

(assignment)

Laser printed on creamy bond paper, the assignment is due tomorrow. It's from

your freshman course in "The Classics in the Modern Idiom," better known as

"21.014." It reads, in part: "Twenty pages on modern analogues of Xenophon's

'Anabasis.'" I'm not sure whether this refers to the movie "The Warriors" or

"Alien," but this is the last assignment I need to complete in this course

this term. I wonder, yet again, why a technical school requires me to endure

this sort of stuff.

I turned on the computer, it makes a quick self check and says "LOGIN PLEASE"

I type my login "872325412"

It now asks "PASSWORD PLEASE"

I type my password "Uhlersoth"

The computer responds "Good evening. You're here awfully late." It displays a

list of pending tasks, one of which is in blinking red letters, with large

arrows pointing to it. The task reads "Classics Paper," some particularly

ominous words next to it say "DUE TOMORROW!" and more reassuringly, a menu box

next to that reads "Edit Classics Paper."

I click edit

The menu box is replaced by the YAK text editor and menu boxes listing the

titles of my files. The one for my paper is highlighted in a rather urgent-

looking shade of red.

I clicked the box for my paper, and the box grows reassuringly until it fills

most of the screen. Unfortunately, the text that fills it bears no resemblance

to my paper. The title is the same, but after that, there is something

different, very different.

The paper appears to be a facsimile overlaid with occasional typescript. The

text is mostly in a sort of "Olde English" I've never seen before. What I

read is a combination of incomprehensible gibberish, latinate pseudowords,

debased Hebrew and Arabic scripts, and an occasional disquieting phrase in

English.

As I look at it more closely, I find it hard to focus on the screen, but

impossible to look away. my finger strays toward the "MORE" box...

I touched the MORE box, and a new page appears.

The second page is much like the first, but around the edges, not when I look

at it straight, it's almost readable. There is something about a "summoning," or

a "visitor."

I clicked the "MORE" box and read what appears.

The third page is in the same script as the first, but laid out like a poem.

There are woodcut illustrations which are queasily disturbing.

There is a translation, or notes for one, typed between the lines of the poem:

"He returns, he is called back (?)

The loyal ones (acolytes?) make a sacrifice

Those who survive will meet him (be absorbed? eaten?)

They will live, yet die

Forever will be (is?) nothing to them (to him?)

"His place (lair? burrow?) must be prepared

His food (offerings?) must be prepared

Call him forth (invite him?) with great power

Only an acceptable (tasteful?) sacrifice will call him forth

He will be grateful (satiated?)"

The rest is even more fragmentary.

Instead, I find my finger moving towards the MORE box, and touch it. The

screen feels oddly cold.

The fourth page is a photograph. I tried to recoil from the screen, but cannot.

Fascinated and repelled at the same time, I wonder: is that a mouth, and what

is in it?

Instead, I find my finger moving towards the MORE box, and touch it. The

screen feels oddly cold.

I fainted, and when I awoke...

This is a place. Things move about on a broken, rocky surface. Harsh sounds

split the air. Something sticky grabs at my feet. There is no color,

everything is drained of brightness, dull and lifeless. A path descends into a

shallow bowl of black basalt.

From below, a low noise begins, and slowly builds. I feel myself drawn

downward by the noise.

Basalt Bowl

I am at the bottom of a deeply cut, smooth basalt bowl. Dimly seen shapes

crowded me on all sides. Ahead, in the focus of the movement, is a rock platform.

I walked my way to the platform.

At Platform

I stood before a low rock platform, more like an afterthought of piled rocks

or a glacial moraine than a work of artifice. I am pushed against the pile by

the crowd around me.

One small stone stands out in the pile, smooth, shiny, and glowing with a

blazing light.

I took the stone.

Suddenly, the dimness becomes darkness, and the crowd around me explodes with

excitement. I am are jostled and shoved from all sides. A low keening begins,

building into a deafening, almost mechanical chant. The darkness before me

compacts and deepens.

I try to throw the stone.

I can't. I go through the motions, but the stone doesn't leave my hand.

The darkness before me, now visible, is a creature. It towers over the now-

silent crowd. The thing jerks this way and that, spraying a foul ichor. Its

palps twitch expectantly, then pound impatiently against the rock. I can feel

the smooth stone vibrating in my hand.

The thing now turns, sensing the presence of the stone. It quests almost blindly

for it, then those surrounding me thrust me forward. The thing stoops, its

mandibles grasping me. I are lifted towards its gaping maw. The stench and

the sounds issuing from it are overwhelming, and I fell unconscious.

I am awakened by the thump of my head hitting the terminal in front of me.

Falling asleep over term papers! It must have been a nightmare. Embarrassed, I

glanced around. Yes, the hacker is looking in my direction. He must have heard

the thump.

Terminal Room, on the chair

but then I realize I still have the stone.

I look at the computer again.

This is a beyond-state-of-the-art personal computer. It has a 1024 by 1024 pixel

color monitor, a mouse, an attached hard disk, and a local area network

connection. Fortunately, one of its features is a prominent HELP key. On the

screen I saw a menu box.

The hacker wanders over, trying to look nonchalant as he takes over my chair.

"Losing, huh?" he asks wittily. He glances at my terminal, which displays a

pattern of snow and unusual characters. He appears somewhat excited.

The hacker, mumbling under his breath, begins a flurry of activity. First the

screen returns to something nearly normal, then windows begin popping up like

toadstools after a rain. The screen looks a lot like the top of his terminal

table (or the bottom of a trash can).

The hacker types furiously, and the screen displays what to me looks like an

explosion in a teletype factory. After a while he says. "Chomping file system.

Your directory has gone seriously west. I fixed it." He checks the screen. "It

was mixed up on the file server with some files from the Department of Alchemy."

He grunts. "People's names for their nodes are getting weird. This one is called

'Lovecraft.'" He pauses. "Your paper is gone, though. Sorry. Maybe they could

help you down there."

The hacker wanders back to his terminal and returns to his hacking.

"Gee it sure is snowing hard," he mumbled, "I wish I could get some food, I'm starving."

I got up and went to the second floor.

Second Floor

This is the second floor of the Computer Center. An elevator and call buttons

are on the south side of the hallway. A large, noisy room is to the north.

Stairs also lead up and down, for the energetic. To the west a corridor leads

into a smaller room.

I went west, into the kitchen

Kitchen

This is a filthy kitchen. The exit is to the east. On the wall near a counter

are a refrigerator and a microwave.

Sitting on the kitchen counter is a package of Funny Bones.

Opening the refrigerator reveals a two liter bottle of Classic Coke and a

cardboard carton.

I take the Coke and the Carton, which has frozen Chinese food in it. I close the refrigerator and go to the counter. I open the microwave, set it on hi and set it for five minutes, I put the carton of Chinese food in it, close it, then start it. I munched on the greasy Funny Bones junk food, while waiting.


	2. The Altar

The microwave oven hangs over the kitchen counter. It has more complicated  
controls than my pc. There is an LED readout above the controls. The microwave  
is on.

After I finished microwaving the carton of Chinese food, I went back down stairs and gave it to the hacker.

"Ah! Serious food!" He plunges into the food with all the delicacy and table  
manners of a shark at a feeding frenzy. Soon a satisfied expression appears on  
his face. "Now, what was it you were wanting?" he asks.

Hanging from the hacker's belt is a watchman's keyring. The large and almost  
full ring is connected by an extensible chain to a reel attached to the hacker's  
belt. It is difficult to lose such a keyring. There are multitudinous keys  
hanging on the keyring. Among them are a green aluminum Medeco key, a green  
brass Yale key, a green aluminum Yale key and a red aluminum Yale key.

I asked him about the keys he owns

"I've accumulated a few keys over the years. I'm a licensed locksmith, which  
helps. I can get into any room at Tech." He pulls the keyring out on its chain,  
and shows off a key that I hadn't noticed before. "This is a master key," he says.

I asked him for it.

"Well, I suppose I could loan you the master key for a while. Just don't get  
into trouble, okay? I'll find you later, when I'm done with all this, and get it  
back." He handed me the key.

I accepted it gratefully.

I went back upstairs, and there was an urchin.

That's what students call the local children who sometimes hang around Tech.  
They are usually blamed when anything is stolen, generally mistrusted, and often  
booted off campus by the campus police.

This is an urchin. He's a youngish teenager wearing a ski hat, running shoes,  
and a bulky, suspiciously bumpy, threadbare parka. He's jumpy, and looks  
suspiciously at me.

The urchin looks around nervously, obviously thinking of flight, but decides  
against it.

I decide to ignore him. And go on my business.

I pushed the up button on the nearby elevator, it glows, and then after a few minutes the door opens, and I go inside.

Elevator  
This is a battered, rather dirty elevator. The fake wood walls are scratched and  
marred with graffiti. The elevator doors are open. To the right of the doors is  
an area with floor buttons (B and 1 through 3), an open button, a close button,  
a stop switch, and an alarm button. Below these is an access panel which is  
open.

I look around, and see a crowbar, a pair of electritions glaves, and a flashlight are in the panel, I take them just in case I see the urchin again, and he decides to attack me.

I pushed the b button.

The button for the basement begins to glow.

I read the graffiti while waiting,

"Tech is Hell,

Kilroy was here"

, and many other writings were written there.

Then the b button flickered off and the elevator came to a halt, soon the doors open and I go outside.

Basement  
Bare concrete walls line a wide corridor leading east and west. An elevator and  
call button are to the south. Stairs also lead up, for the energetic. From floor  
to ceiling run wire channels and steam pipes.

I go west

Aero Basement  
This basement level room is made of smooth, damp-seeming concrete. Fluorescent  
lights cast harsh shadows. To the west is a stairway, and to the east the  
basement area continues.

There is a forklift here.

I get in the forklift.

I turn it on

The forklift sputters to life.

I go east for a bit, into the temp basement.

Temporary Basement, on the forklift

Temporary Basement, on the forklift  
During the Second World War, some temporary buildings were built to house war-  
related research. Naturally, these buildings, though flimsy and ugly, are still  
around. This is the basement of one of them. The basement extends west, a  
stairway leads up, and a large passage is to the east.

I go even more east, soon it is pitch black, I turned on my flashlight.

The flashlight clicks on.

Dead Storage, on the forklift  
This is a storage room. It contains an incredible assemblage of discarded junk.  
Some of it is so old and mouldering that I can't be sure where one bit of junk  
stops and the next begins. It's piled to the ceiling on ancient, rotting  
pallets; I can't even see the east wall.

I have a little trouble using the forklift, but it's not really all that hard.  
I started clearing junk, moving it around and trying to create a passage.

I continue moving junk, becoming more proficient with the forklift.

I've built a fairly narrow (about one forklift wide) path through the junk.  
I can see an opening into a further storage room beyond this one.

I turn off the forklift

The forklift coughs once, and dies.

I dissembark it.

I am now on my feet.

Ancient Storage  
What's deader than dead storage? That's what's in this room. Most of the  
contents have collapsed or rusted back to the primordial ooze. There is mold  
growing on some of the unidentifiable piles. Stagnant puddles of water pollute  
the floor. I can now believe how old some of these foundations are said to be.

There is a closed, disused-looking manhole here.

I lever the manhole cover aside with the crowbar , and crusted dirt falls into a dark, partly  
obstructed hole below.

I went south

I pushed my way through cobwebs, damp fungus, and other obstructions.

Brick Tunnel  
This is an ancient tunnel constructed of roughly mortared bricks and stones. A  
slippery and almost invisible set of handholds leads up. The tunnel continues a  
long way north and south from here.

I made your way along the long tunnel.

Renovated Cave  
I am in a huge, cave-like construction. A path leads down to a floor partly  
covered with rough concrete. The walls and ceiling are high and reinforced with  
beams of wood, iron, and steel. In the center of the floor I can see a large,  
flat slab of granite. The only exit is behind you to the south.

I climb down

I am at the bottom of the cave. The huge slab of granite in the center is a  
sort of altar. It is carved with strange and disturbing symbols, the largest of  
which looks very familiar. Some of the symbols are obscured by rusty red stains.  
Nearby is an iron plate set in the concrete of the floor. There is a knife on the floor, I take it.

The slab is roughly circular, made of indifferently dressed New England granite,  
and about three feet high. It is carved all over with odd glyphs, symbols, and  
strange animal (or part-animal?) figures. The top is covered with a brown stain  
shading to red at the edges.

I take a closer look at the carved symbol

The symbol, on close examination, appears to have been carved into the smooth  
stone, perhaps with a claw. The symbol is like nothing you've ever seen, and yet  
somehow I know it has meaning.

I looked at the incised symbol

The symbol appears to be the oldest thing carved on the altar. It is beautifully  
incised in the rocks. Its age is apparent from its wear and the overlay of newer  
carvings and scratchings over it. The symbol looks oddly familiar.

I slided open the panel, revealing a dark pit below. Immediately, there is a  
response from below.

A low, guttural, groaning and snarling issues from the opening.

The plate is iron, about two feet square, and open. A curious feature of the  
plate is that it has upward projecting dents in it which appear to have been  
punched from below.

I peered through the hole, shining my light into the stygian darkness below.  
The commotion below is growing louder, and suddenly I catch a glimpse of  
things moving in the pit. Without consciously realizing I have done it, I  
slamed the panel shut, reeling away from the source of such images. Now I know  
what has been done with the missing students.

But I can never forget the image of their, dripping, mafored corpses bend in such grotesque forms in that dark pit, what kind of creature could do that, I can only guess...


	3. Those horrible rats

I went back up, and there was the urchin. He just looked at me, and went on his own business.

I went way east, all the way to an other stair way,

Stairway  
A dimly lit stairway leads up and down from here. A corridor continues east.

I went down

Subbasement  
This is the subbasement of the Aeronautical Engineering Building. A stairway  
leads up. A narrow crack in the northwest corner of the room opens into a larger  
space.

I went northwest

This is a tiny, narrow, ill-fitting room. It appears to have been a left over  
space from the joining of two preexisting buildings. It is roughly coffin  
shaped. The walls are covered by decades of overlaid graffiti, but there is one  
which is painted in huge fluorescent letters that were apparently impossible for  
later artists to completely deface. On the floor is a rusty access hatch locked  
with a huge padlock.

The hatch is made of stamped, ridged steel. It was originally painted  
institutional grey, but has been the victim of innumerable graffiti artists  
since. You can still make out the stencilled warning "Authorized personnel only"  
which has been carefully prefixed by "UN," and suffixed by "This means you!"  
both in a disgusting fiery red. The hatch is locked.

I unlocked the hatch with the master key  
The lock, though rusty and unwilling, opens, releasing the hatch.

The hatch is heavy, and its hinges are rusty, but you pull and strain and it  
opens with a scream of metal. Revealed below is a rusty ladder leading down.  
Warm, fetid air coils up out of the hole. There is a burned out (no, smashed)  
utility light set in the wall a few feet down.

Steam Tunnel  
This dank and grimy tunnel is largely filled with an imperfectly insulated steam  
pipe. The tunnel is uncomfortably hot and damp. I have gone from the arctic to  
the tropics. The concrete tunnel has odd molds and fungi growing on its walls  
and ceiling, and the floor is squishy. Torn clots of insulation litter the  
floor. Along the ceiling runs a thick tangle of coaxial cable. The tunnel heads  
east and west. A rusty metal ladder leads up.

I can hear, in the distance, a chittering, scratching sound.

I go east

Steam Tunnel  
This dank and grimy tunnel is largely filled with an imperfectly insulated steam  
pipe. The tunnel is uncomfortably hot and damp. A thick bundle of coaxial cable  
runs east to west along the ceiling. There is a pressure release valve on the  
steam pipe here.

The sound is louder. It sounds like small animals. Is it rats?

I went more east

Steam Tunnel  
The steam tunnel is narrow here, and its construction is more archaic. It's now  
mostly brick, although the floor is concrete. The steam pipe and coaxial cable  
continue along their appointed paths. The tunnel is damp and even a little  
muddy.

The rat sounds are growing louder, but I still can't see any rats.

I went even more east

Steam Tunnel  
The steam pipe and coaxial cable turn upwards and disappear into the ceiling  
here. The tunnel itself comes to an end in a grimy, damp, and dripping triad of  
crumbling brick walls. The south wall looks particularly decrepit.

The rat sounds are growing louder, it is defenetly rats.

I go even more and more east.

The tunnel ends here, in a dank, dripping brick wall.

The rat sounds are growing louder, but I still can't see any rats.


	4. The Professor

Then, I saw them, those horrible, rats, I'll never forget what they look like, white skin, with lose patches of fur.

I hitted the valve with my crowbar

The valve, with a horrible scream of tortured metal, gives a little, and a small

trickle of steam issues forth.

again

The valve screeches open. A jet spray of live steam issues from it, filling the

tunnel in front of me.

I pryed the wall with the crowbar

crowbar

The wall grudgingly yields to your efforts. A brick, less well mortared than its

fellows, drops to the floor on the other side, making a hole through the wall.

I can see a rusty steel reinforcing rod in the hole.

The flashlight is producing much less light.

It's rusty, obviously didn't help the wall all that much, and runs up and down

through the hole you have made.

I went back up

I went west from the basement,

Infinite Corridor

The so-called infinite corridor runs from east to west in the main campus

building. This is the west end. Side corridors lead north and south, and a set

of doors leads west into the howling blizzard.

There is a plastic container here.

There is a largish machine being operated down the hall to the east.

I took the container.

I went south

Engineering Building

This building extends a long way south from the Infinite Corridor. It too is

full of closed, locked offices.

Infinite Corridor

The so-called infinite corridor runs from east to west in the main campus

building. The corridor extends both ways from here. Many closed and locked

offices are to the north and south.

A maintenance man is here, riding a floor waxer.

I asked him about the waxer, he replied in a low, jarring gutterul manner, after looking at him closely, I realized, he might not be entirely human, infact he looked rather zombie like, and me seeing all of the weird things today, thought he probaly was one

I waited

Time passes...

The floor waxer waxes away to the east.

I went east

Infinite Corridor

The so-called infinite corridor runs from east to west in the main campus

building. The corridor extends both ways from here. A stairway leads up, and a

door leads out to the Great Court.

A maintenance man is here, riding a floor waxer.

There is a wall socket on one wall, and a heavy-duty power cord is plugged into

it. The cord leads to a large floor waxer.

I pulled at the power cord, but it won't come loose!

I went up the stairs

Great Dome

Here a walkway circles the base of a huge ornate dome. Below is the Infinite

Corridor. From stories of Tech Exploring trips, I recalled that there is

supposed to be a ladder here. On the other hand, there is a shiny rope-like

thing hanging near where the ladder used to be, and leading upward. Below me,

in the corridor, I can see a floor waxer, busily waxing the floor.

I started to climb up the strand, but the glistening wet stuff begins to burn

my hands. I got a few feet up before the pain is too much. I dropped back to

the floor.

I putted on the gloves. They're a little big, but not really such a bad fit at

all.

Now I decided to climb again

The wet stuff on the strand sticks to the gloves, but doesn't otherwise affect

you. I had a little trouble climbing up to the catwalk, but grab the rail

just before my strength ran out. I heaved myself up onto the catwalk.

I stood up on the catwalk, catching my breath for a moment. My eyes strayed

along the strand you climbed. It trails along the catwalk, where it joins

something large and squishy squatting at the far side. A single, bright-blue eye

opens in the squishy mass, and the tentacle (for that's what it is) retracts.

The mass almost flows through the spaces in the catwalk railing and drops to the

floor fifteen feet below. Before I could react, it's gone.

Top of Dome

Inside the great dome, near the top, a metal catwalk is precariously perched.

There is no way further up, but a small metal door is set in the side of the

dome.

Where the pulpy mass was squatting, a wooden ladder lies on the catwalk.

I went north

I entered the freezing, biting cold of the blizzard.

Roof of Great Dome

I am perched precariously on the roof of the Great Dome. A set of narrow

indentations in the dome provides a dangerous route to the very tip-top of the

dome.

I went up

I scrambled up icy surface of the dome, almost slipping a few times, but

finally I made it to the top.

On the Great Dome

This is the very top of the Great Dome, a favorite place for Tech fraternities

to install cows, Volkswagen Beetles, giant birthday candles, and other bizarre

objects. The top is flat, round, and about five feet in diameter. It's very

windy, which has kept the snow from accumulating here. The only way off is down.

In the exact center of the flat area is a bronze plug.

Bitter, bone-cracking cold assaults me continuously. The temperature and the

blizzard conditions are both horrible.

I lifted the plug, reavealing a small note, I took it and went back down

I closed the door, shutting out the blizzard.

I unrolled the piece of paper and read the shaky handwriting:

"I can no longer face what I've been doing. I can't sleep, I start at the

slightest noise, and even dulling my senses with alcohol or drugs is no longer

enough. I refuse to participate in what he is doing any more. Either he is

insane, or I am insane, or (and this is what I fear most) the universe itself is

insane. I have only one final warning: I am the only suicide, but I will not be

the final death."

The name signed to it is oddly familiar.

I went back down and headed east

There is a largish machine being operated down the hall to the east.

The was a large glass cabinet, I read the sign

"In case of emergency, break glass."

The floor waxer, approaching from the east, is now here.

I hited at the glass with your hands, but I can't hit hard enough to break it:

Imight cut yourself on the glass.

I decided to break it with the crowbar

The glass smashes with a satisfying crash!

It's one of those little cabinets you see in institutional buildings that

usually contains a fire hose and a fire axe. This one seems to only have an axe.

It had a transparent window but apparently some vandal smashed it. There is

writing on the cabinet.

I went west and decided to hack the plug with the axe, trying to see what would happen.

The axe went down with a crash, severing the cord, the waxer died with a whine, the man jerked into alertness and looked at me with hatred in his eyes.

The maintenance man lurches toward me with surprising speed. He is nearly upon

me.

I swung the axe at him, seeing that he was trying to kill me.

The fire axe chops into his chest, where it sticks. Ed Ames would be proud. The

force of the blow staggers him a bit. He looks down at the axe with a certain

perplexity, then pulls it free, the wound making a sickening sucking sound.

The maintenance man stares with maniacal intensity at my throat.

I decided to try to hit him with the stone.

The smooth stone hits him right between the eyes. He falls to the ground,

stunned. There is now what looks like a large burn mark on his forehead. He

ignores it and rises.

I opened the container, revealing some liquid, which I poured on the floor

It pours out and spreads like ants at a picnic. The floor is now covered from

wall to wall with slippery floor wax. The maintenance man, attempting to get

closer to me, enters the waxed part of the floor. He begins to slip and slide,

barely able to maintain his balance, much less advance.

The maintenance man continues slipping, falling, standing, and so on. He reminds me

of a badly made windup toy.

I watched him for a bit

The maintenance man appears to shorten and almost dissolve. There is a great

commotion, as though he is undergoing a convulsion of some sort, and then he

appears to explode into a crowd of small squealing creatures. These, seeing me,

scuttle off in the opposite direction and disappear.

The floor here is covered with slippery, messy floor wax.

A disabled floor waxer looms nearby.

There is a formerly glass-fronted emergency cabinet here.

I went east for a bit

Chemistry Building

This corridor is lined with closed, dark offices. At the south end of the

corridor is a door with a light shining behind it. There is something written on

the door.

Painted on the door, in calligraphy indistinguishable from any other door at

Tech, is the phrase "Department of Alchemy." I always used to wonder what was

behind that door.

I knocked on the door, then some one answered

the man smiled he looked like a professor. "Good evening! I don't get many visitors this late. You're not one of my

students, are you?" He ushers you into the room without waiting for an answer,

closing the door behind me.

Department of Alchemy

This office is clinically clean, shiny, and modern. It looks like something out

of a science fiction movie. A closed door to the north leads back into the

corridor and an archway opens to the south.

Taped to the wall to the right of the archway is a sign-up sheet.

The professor is here.

This appears to be a sign-up sheet for the lab. Strangely, although few daytime

segments are used, almost all of the nighttime ones are. Most seem to have been

taken by two different people, the professor and another, presumably one of his

graduate students. The name of the graduate student is oddly familiar.

I asked him about the sheet

"We don't have much lab space. Everyone has to sign up for lab time."

Suddenly, I remembered why the graduate student's name was familiar. He was a

missing student, until his body was found smashed and broken at the base of the

tallest building on campus.

I asked him about the students

"I don't know anything about them. Tech is high-pressure. Some people can't take

it."

I asked him about the lab

The professor stops you, not too gently. "Sorry," he says, although he doesn't

sound too sorry. "There are very delicate experiments going on in the lab. You

might hurt something." All you can see before he guides you away from the

archway is a great deal of odd apparatus and equipment.

I showed him the note, hoping I could trust him,

He reads it carefully. "What drivel! This just confirms my suspicions. He had

clearly gone over the edge. Drug use, drinking, insanity. It's only too bad that

I didn't realize what was happening. I might have helped him."

"Obviously a nut case. He knew he was going to flunk out, and this is clearly an

attempt to put the blame somewhere else."

Now I asked him about the lab again

"Ah! You'd like to see the lab?" the professor asks in a rather unctuous tone.

"Come right in!" He ushers you through the archway into the lab, following

quickly behind you and turning on the lights.

Lab

The lab is an ultramodern, fully equipped chemistry lab. Unfortunately, or

perhaps fortunately, I'm not a chemistry major, so the equipment might as

well be magical.

The professor is here.

There is a lab bench and an Alchemy Department computer here. Sitting on the lab

bench is a vat. The vat contains a tarry liquid.

The professor guides me to the center of the lab, where a strange pentagonal

symbol is chalked on the floor. He cuts one of the chalk lines with a small

knife I had not previously noticed, pushes me into the center of the chalked

symbol, and redraws the line, muttering softly and rhythmically as he does so.

"There, that's done. Don't move from there, it'll only make things worse for

you." He makes some odd gestures at the archway and then goes over to the lab

bench.

There is a lab bench and an Alchemy Department computer here. Sitting on the lab

bench is a vat. The vat contains a tarry liquid.

The professor is preparing something at the lab bench. "Alchemy is my chosen

field, and I've gotten ridiculed for it. It's like chemistry, except that

chemists don't recognize that some natural laws are enforced by persons, not

physics. Some of them will grant power, or knowledge, but they must be placated,

or even bribed. They're not of this earth, not demons or devils, and they aren't

always friendly. To me it's just an unpleasant necessity on the path to power.

When I'm done, they won't laugh anymore!".

The professor enters another pentagram, and begins a highly choreographed

ritual. "This may seem a little silly to you, but the symbology is what's

important. Certain alignments, certain aspects. In a few moments, it won't

matter anyway," he remarks. "There is very little room for error here, so be

calm." He chants, he brandishes strange instruments, moves about inside the

pentagram, and occasionally points to me. It becomes clear exactly what he

meant by the word "bribe."

The room is now freezing cold, though the windows are shuttered and tightly

curtained. Low, bone-rattling vibrations shake the room in cadence with the

chant. The black mist is growing thicker. The professor chants more rapidly,

producing strange guttural sounds, scarcely human.

The black mist swirls wildly around the room, and a deep bass voice gibbers out

of thin air. The professor's brow drips with sweat.

I cut the outer lines of the pentagram. It no longer completely encloses me.

The professor sees what I've done out of the corner of his eye. He stares,

horrified. "Stop, don't move!" he says between verses of the chant. The chant

takes on a pleading tone.

The chant grows more complex, the professor having difficulty with the almost

unpronounceable words, with rhythms and cadences that make me want to stop my

ears. The room appears to be getting darker.

I pushed your way through a soft spot just over the scuff marks, and are outside

the pentagram. The air is thick and close.

A thick black mist begins to form in the room. Parts are darker, and parts

lighter, and the dark parts form a disturbing shape. The professor chants and

calls more loudly now, clearly terrified of what may happen, and I realize the

calls are being answered.

of thin air. "No!" screams the professor, and jumps toward you out of his own

pentagram. He realizes what he has done, and tries to reenter, but the mist

grabs at him.

I cut the line with my knife and got up, I moved the bench reavealing a trap door, which I entered

Cinderblock Tunnel

This is a tunnel whose walls are cinderblock, with a concrete floor and ceiling.

A metal ladder leads up to an open metal plate in the ceiling, and the tunnel

continues north, where the cinderblock walls become brick.

From above, you hear a thunderous noise, a maniacal scream, and then the sound

of equipment smashing. The trapdoor slams shut, but around it pours a blinding

flash of light. Finally you hear an almost inaudible whimper, then nothing. The

light fades, leaving you in the dark.

turn on light

The flashlight clicks on.

Cinderblock Tunnel

This is a tunnel whose walls are cinderblock, with a concrete floor and ceiling.

A metal ladder leads up to a closed metal plate in the ceiling, and the tunnel

continues north, where the cinderblock walls become brick.


End file.
